For Tanwyn, For Gondor
by 1607hannah
Summary: Boromir, son of Denethor, never married and for good reason. There is a difference between love and duty, Boromir knows which one he will always follow and it comes at a bitter cost. Boromir and OFC
1. For Tanwyn

**_For Tanwyn_**

She was a favourite among her clients, namely for her easy going nature. She certainly wasn't beautiful, pretty yes, but it was a sweet, gentle prettiness; she wasn't striking or beautiful as some of the women were. The men sought her bed more than others because she offered her humour and chattiness with it, not petty women's gossip, but a warmth that few could resist. So Boromir found himself not heading for the Citadel, cold and unforgiving, but in Madam Thraingill's board house. A blazing fire burning in the grate, a hot plate of dinner before him, while she fussed about the cut of his hair and his general upkeep. Madam Thraingill was good like that, she ensured her clientele were decent folk and her cooking was a good deal better than some of the cheaper taverns. While he none too secretly hoped that a certain whore wouldn't mind sharing her bed.

"Your brother not here tonight?" she asked.  
"Nay, he is kept in Ithilien."  
Thraingill gave him a look, "You have seen your father?"  
Boromir smiled, Thraingill was fond of Faramir, though he did not visit the brothel very often. Thraingill knew better than most how the youngest son of Denethor was treated and it was fortunate she kept her mouth shut.  
"Yes, I have seen my father and then he sent me on my way."  
"He sends you back to Osgilith?"  
"No I am to stay in the city with the Guards and fortify our defences; I review the new recruits tomorrow."  
Thraingill nodded, tidied his plate away and then grumbled about the war mongering of men, Boromir hid a smile and finished his ale. She came back out of the kitchen.

"If you are hoping to sleep with Tanwyn tonight she has already gone to bed and her shift is over."  
"There must be some leeway for the Captain of the White Tower?" Boromir grinned roguishly at the old woman, who crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.  
"You know my rules with my girls."  
"Can I ask her?" Boromir said.  
"Ask away, by all means. But if she does not want you there, then I shan't be one to force her and neither shall you."  
Boromir nodded his head and then got up, Madam Thraingill pulled the bolt across the door, extinguished most of the candles and picked one up to take with them. She began to climb the stairs, Boromir following. She gave a yawn.  
"I may go to bed as well, tis far too late for these old bones."

Boromir chuckled as they climbed the darkened stairway, the old lady suddenly turned to him and he had to quickly jump back, for fear of knocking into her.  
"Now look here, Boromir. I appreciate your custom, as does anyone, but you've seen nine and thirty summers, it is high time a man like you stopped visiting brothels and started searching for a wife. You'd make a good father, I can tell…it's always the same with men, you just know whether they'll be good fathers or whether they'll be entirely useless."  
Boromir was mildly surprised at the woman's sudden change in topic, but he smiled nevertheless.  
"I appreciate your advice, Madam Thraingill, but it would be cruel to have a wife and children and be separated from them for so long. My father would not care for their wellbeing and happiness, he cares only for the wellbeing of Gondor and I am glad to sacrifice my marital bliss for that."  
Madam Thraingill continued up the stairs and along the hall, muttering all the while about wasted life and youth, the happiness of a fair, goodly woman and the sweetness of children's laughter. Boromir smiled and rolled his eyes.

* * *

Boromir felt faintly amused and relieved when they finally came to the third door and Thraingill knocked. There was an unrecognisable, muffled response and then a sound of feet hitting the wooden floorboards, walking to the door and finally opening it. Tanwyn looked out, a little bleary eyed; though as soon as she laid eyes on Boromir her dark grey eyes narrowed. She wore a thick, over robe and underneath a white, linen nightgown, the low V of the neckline cutting a soft line into her breasts. Boromir made no disguise in looking at her fine figure, the curves of her hips and shoulders shown through the fine material. Her chestnut colored hair tied back in a plait, soft strands of bronze glimmering in the candle light.

Tanwyn gave a groan and she looked fiercely at Thraingill, "No. It's not my shift now, get Cyrith to do it."  
"And a fine evening to you too, Tanwyn." Boromir smiled.  
Tanwyn glowered at him, he knew it was risky to wake her up, in the morning she was no better. Tanwyn loved to sleep and though she was always merry in the afternoons and evenings, she detested the morning and detested it even more when someone woke her up during the night.  
"Look, if you wish it, I will ask no more than to sleep beside you. My bed in the Citadel at this time is very cold and very empty." Boromir said.  
Tanwyn made a 'Pfft' noise, "Ha, you could ask for any whore you please to arrive at the Citadel entirely naked, Steward-son!"  
"Tanwyn." Thraingill said warningly. "Boromir seeks only a little company."  
"He can get that from any whore." Tanwyn muttered furiously.  
"And yet I find myself at your door, with no desire for any old whore in my bed at the Citadel. I look for a woman who can warm my heart as well as my bed."  
Tanwyn frowned at the man, sighed, shook her head and then gave an amused smile.  
"Come on Boromir, oh charmer of women! I'm too tired to spend the night arguing with you."  
Thraingill gave them both a smile and bid them goodnight, going to her own bed, while Boromir followed the young woman into her room.

Like most of the rooms in the brothel it was modestly furnished, though the bedspread was intricately designed and the fabric was a rich velvet. The four-poster bed, although unusual in the poorer areas, was not as grand as his own; yet it felt welcoming, the light red of the cover looked a good deal more cheery than the dark, near black-blue of his own bed. He stripped off his tunic and breeches, then the undershirt beneath and climbed naked into the warmed bed. Tanwyn took the outer robe off and placed it in her wardrobe. She eventually joined him, blowing out the candle on her bedside table, before lying down properly. He pulled her closer, pressing her heated body against his own. She seemed more placid now, calmer than when she had first opened the door, he chuckled slightly on remembering her angry expression.

"What?" she murmured.  
"Just remembering how you looked when I showed up."  
Tanwyn snorted and then lay still for a while, Boromir deftly stroked her back, the nightgown feeling rough under his fingertips.  
"How goes the defence of Osgilith?"  
He made a non-committal noise, "Don't want to talk about it."  
"Very well." she settled more comfortably into him, placing her cheek on the crook of his shoulder. How nice it was to have someone who could accept an answer for what it was. Sometimes when he did not wish to speak of such things, people would badger on at him for hours at a time. The silence was idyllic.  
"Is your brother alright?" she asked.  
"Yes, well he was the last time I saw him and I pray he is well now, but Faramir is a good soldier…"  
"That's not what I meant." Her fingers stroked his left shoulder, towards his neck and then finally rested on his cheek. Boromir gave a sad sigh.

"Father…is somewhat civilised to him, but not pleasant in anyway…not in the way a father should be."  
"Mmm." she agreed. "Your brother deserves more acknowledgement. He is a good soldier and leader, a good man in general."  
"Mmm." he agreed. He felt her shift in the bed and raise herself on her arms. In the darkness, with only a pale glow falling under the shutters, she found his lips and then lowered her head to kiss him. Her mouth was sweet and gentle on his and he eagerly sought her waist, so her could pressed himself closer to her. But after a few moments she pulled away and lay down with a breathy sigh.  
"What was that for?" he smirked.  
"In greeting."  
"I should bid you good day more often." Boromir said.  
"More like goodnight, Dorhirim was meant to be my last customer." Tanwyn gripped his arm a little, her warning for him. He found her other hand and squeezed it in response.  
"Oh surely, lady, I am more than a customer?"  
Tanwyn laughed softly and hit his chest, but she did not say anything more about it.

"You're so lovely and warm." he muttered.  
"As are you, like a bloody furnace." she shifted the cover off a bit and then buried herself nearer to his chest.  
"It is cold tonight though." Boromir wrapped his arms tightly around her, feeling the firmness of her waist, lazily drawing his hand down to her buttocks and squeezing them within his hand. He vaguely fantasied about her riding him, her legs straddling his hips, those strong thighs pushing him onward, dark, rich hair hanging over her shoulder…Tanwyn laughed again, pulled his hand up from her buttocks and placed it assuredly on her back.  
"Perhaps in the morning, if I'm in a good mood. Goodnight, Boromir." she said.  
"Goodnight, Tanwyn." And he placed a kiss on her forehead, breathing in the scent of her hair. He was soon lulled to sleep by her gentle breathing, the comforting weight of her body…ah she was so warm and sweet. He caught a glance of her small smile before his eyes drifted close.

* * *

Yet still he had the same dream of darkness, a whispering within the black clouds and a desperate hunt to find the stars once more; knowing they were lost forever and the darkness would tumble into his mind, pulling away every joy he once knew. Then he would step off the edge and fall down and down, not knowing when the fall would end or whether he would be alive by the end of it. And when he believed he saw something buried within the darkness, a glint, a shine of metal, he would jolt awake; panting, sweat trickling down his back, as though the dream was a nightmare, though it was merely strange and confusing. He shivered on seeing the grey light of dawn glow around the frames of the shutter and pulled the warm body closer to him, shifting the cover over her body and wrapping her tightly in his arms. She mumbled incoherently in sleep and her arms drifted around his shoulders, clasping him tighter. Their legs were entangled under the sheets and as she came nearer he felt his cock stiffen slightly when her thigh brushed up against him. Boromir smiled somewhat, 'Not yet.' he thought and fell back to sleep again.

* * *

He awoke again to the pleasurable sensation of Tanwyn kissing his chest, her face rubbing against his fine chest hairs and she gave little mews of delight. He lazily pulled his hand through her hair, marvelling at the softness of that long strand and then pulled out the ribbon that held her plait in place. He ran his hand several times through her hair, gently massaging the base of her neck, till she rested on his shoulder and gave small kisses to his cheek.  
"Good, you didn't wake me up." she said. Boromir chuckled, he lifted up the nightgown and found his way to her back, the skin felt like silk and she gave a little sigh of pleasure as his rough, calloused hands rubbed her back.  
"So how is my lady this morning?" Boromir asked, she gave a punch to his chest.  
"Don't call me that."  
"My apologies."  
"You know there is no need for things like that here; a cock's a cock, no matter whether it's on the lowest beggar or the richest king. I will call you Boromir and you will call me Tanwyn, let that be the end of it."

They lay in silence; Boromir continued his ministrations to her back, until stopping and pulling his hand out from beneath her bunched up nightgown and the covers. He pushed her nightgown back down and clasped her neck with one hand, the other on her cheek. Tanwyn opened her eyes and regarded him, till he bent down and kissed her. She instinctively closed her eyes and gave a whimper of pleasure as Boromir guided her mouth into the kiss. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing her legs apart a little so he sunk nearer her cunt. He lovingly kissed her, going further down to her neck and then the small gap of her chest. He pulled down one hand, cupping the breast and kissing the soft skin between her nightgown.  
"You are in a good mood, then?" Boromir asked.  
She chuckled and ran her hand through his hair. "Perhaps."  
He laughed, "Perhaps I'll need to persuade you then."  
"Mm, you're really rather good at that." she said.

He brought his lips back up to hers, while deftly pinching the firm nipple till it hardened under her nightgown and she let out a little panting moan into his mouth. He took his chance with her open mouth and felt the warm, wet sweetness of her tongue. As she pulled back she bit his lower lip and pushed his hand more firmly on her breast. There was something infinitely pleasurable when she told him what she wanted, both with her words and her actions. He eagerly pulled the nightgown off her shoulders and saw her confident smile. She knew what it did to him. He softly chafed the other breast, until he flicked his hand over her nipple and she arched her back for his touch. Then he lowered his head and began to suckle her, hearing her little pants and moans of pleasure.  
"I never asked you…" she said between gasps, "Do you prefer breasts or…buttocks?"  
He looked up, an amused smile on his lips.  
"Well I'd have to inspect both to be certain."

She knelt up beside him and pulled her nightgown over her head, her entire body revealed in one swift motion. She held her breasts in her hands, as though for his approval, while his eyes roamed over her body. Her skin was creamy, a little golden from working in the garden as she often did during the day; her stomach had a small curve to it, though her waist was still slimmer than her hips and thighs. Dark hair grew by her crotch. If only the ladies of the court could see a woman like this, they would realise why they meant so little to him. He'd always preferred the working women, to any great Lady, but there was something special about Tanwyn; he found himself returning to her again and again, marvelling over her body and her ease with her own passions and temperament. He smiled at the thought of bringing Tanwyn to his father and declaring her his Lady-Wife.

Tanwyn rolled onto her front, the firm, roundness of her buttocks plain to see and he instantly grasped them feeling her tighten into his hand. His eyes travelled down her shapely legs.  
"Your breasts are beautiful, but I am certainly a buttocks man and your back…" He bent over kissing up her spine, feeling the shivers run up it and Goosebumps forming over her skin. Then loosened the ribbon tying her plait and brushing out the thick strand, until it hung in waves down her back, "…is perfection itself."  
Tanwyn chuckled and rolled onto her back, pulling him down for another kiss.  
"Well said Steward-son."  
"I thought I was just Boromir."  
"I thought you were too busy taking in my body."  
"I am." He gave her another kiss, then another going down her neck, kissing her chest, her stomach, her waist…tantalising stopping before her groin. He carefully separated the folds of flesh, revealing the heated, pink, inner core; already a little wet.  
"Do I excite you?" he murmured.  
"Do you need to ask me that?" she quipped and he grinned, before reaching down quickly and sucking on her flesh, she gasped and her legs jolted up from the bed.  
"Boromir!" she exclaimed.

She always tasted a little sweet, with something of a salty edge. He ran his tongue up to her clit and heard her moans. He lifted up his head, Tanwyn looked furiously at him.  
"I presumed by your shouting of my name you wanted me to stop."  
She glared at him, while he benignly smiled back, before she reached over and pushed his head down. He instantly pushed his tongue into her and she bucked her hips upwards.  
"Don't stop. No one pays me this much attention."  
He stole a glance upwards, seeing her eyes closed with bliss, her fingers running over her breasts, the panting sighs resuming once more. He felt his own arousal grow at her moans, the wetness of her cunt, his own name murmured on her lips as though it were the sweetest of wines. He gently inserted his fingers into her cunt and leaned over to kiss her mouth, desiring her to taste herself, she was so delectable. She groaned into his mouth once more and then her hand seized his cock, only a few strokes and it was hardened in her hand.

"Come inside me." she said and he rolled over, pushing her thighs apart and finding that familiar sense of relief, welcome and security as he drove into her. Her legs tightened over his buttocks, her arms locked behind his shoulders.  
"Boromir, you're so good."  
He pulled her legs up higher, thrusting into her, till he heard her high pitched groan, her chest heaving and the warm breasts pressing firmly into his chest. He could feel the muscles clench over his cock and then his own release. He collapsed on top of her, the sweet smell of spent lust, sweat and heat filling the bed. She kissed him, as though she were his sweetheart, his wife, not just a whore that had last slept with six or so men. He meant more than that Dorhirim.

* * *

They lay there for a while, contentment spread over their faces, occasionally turning to one another to kiss. She pushed him off eventually.  
"I'm hungry. I'll go downstairs and bring us up a tray."  
"Let me." he said, kissing her once more, she chuckled.  
"What will the girls think?"  
"What they always think when I'm here…"  
Tanwyn nodded, "They know I'm a favourite of yours."  
Boromir frowned, "Well I wouldn't say that…"  
"When was the last time you slept with Cyrith? Or Seryan? Or Agriliven…?  
"I get your point." he muttered.

He shifted from the bed and rolled over. Boromir walked swiftly over to the chair and after tidying himself up, pulled the dark breeches back on. He heard Tanwyn get up from the bed and walk over. He sat in the chair and reached for his boots, but she gently cupped his face in her hands.  
"What's wrong? I wasn't making any claim by it. I don't see what difference it makes. So you like the way I fuck, what does it matter?"  
He sighed and then pulled her into his lap, arms protective around her waist, lips finding hers once more. He broke away and stared into her grey eyes, framed by dark lashes. So typical of a Lady of Gondor, yet she was so untypical.  
"Because I don't just _favour _you, it would be foolish of me to deny it, but what I feel for you is much stronger than that."  
"Oh." She said, understanding everything. Tanwyn looked thoughtful for a moment, then bowed her head and kissed him again. He leaned further back into the chair, enjoying the kiss. Then she pulled away, though he still sought her mouth for more kisses, but she placed a gentle hand on his mouth.  
"Go and get the breakfast, we'll discuss this when you get back." she said.

She got up and climbed back into the bed, Boromir pulled his boots back on, yanked his shirt over his head and walked out of the room, down the stairs and through the dining hall, where the girls instantly tittered and whispered on seeing his appearance. Several men were present, but he passed them swiftly and went into the kitchen.  
"Good morrow, Boromir." Madam Thraingill greeted him. Several bowls were laid out on a tray, with creamy porridge, a swirl of honey and dark blueberries dotted the surface. Thraingill was now stirring a pan of scrambled eggs.  
"Good morrow, Madam Thraingill. I was wondering if we could have some food."  
"Aye, lad. You know where it is." She smiled, "You get some bread, pop it into the oven to warm it up, then help yourself to cheese, fruit and I'll make some more scrambled eggs for you both."  
"You're a blessed woman indeed."  
She grinned, "Don't I know it!" and with that she plopped the egg onto a plate, added that to the tray and marched into the dining hall, while Boromir brought out a small, thickly crusted loaf of bread, more of the blueberries, an apple or two and then poured two cups of mint tea for them both. Thraingill came back in, now with an empty tray and started on the eggs. Boromir put the fruit, tea and two empty plates on the tray. He put the loaf of bread in the oven.

* * *

"I love eating in bed." Tanwyn slathered her bread with butter and honey, she raised it to his lips and he took a bite. She had finished her eggs and several of the blueberries with it, now she sipped the warm mint tea and the brown bread he had brought up. He took a bite of an apple.  
"I like the way you eat." he said. She laughed broadly at that.  
"The way I eat?"  
"Properly, as though food is good and enjoyable, not just little nibbles here and there."  
She made the 'Pfft' noise again, "You are thinking of those proper ladies of court."  
"That's why I like you so much; you are so different from them."  
She licked her fingers clean and then swallowed the bread, "Difference is not a reason to love someone. You mustn't think you love me, just because I am a novelty to you…novelty soon wears off."

She reached for the other apple and followed his suit, taking a bite.  
"I have known you for how long?" Boromir asked.  
"I am five and twenty now, got here when I was nine and ten…So that is seven years, and you have known me for six."  
"Exactly. Six years is a long time and as you know I have known other women within that time…"  
Tanwyn frowned, "I hardly think you the best of lovers, if that is the case. Should you not have been scrawling poetry to me or sighing while the moon shines through your windows?"  
He raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Should I? If you think I speak of a school boy's fancy or an older man's lust, you are mistaken. I confess I am not the best of lovers, but I did so because…"  
"Because?"  
"Because you were not interested in me in that way and I tried to convince myself that it was a passing fancy, simple desire because you were good at sex…I thought of making you my mistress, but I knew you would never accept and my father hated it when I bedded the women of the court, let alone…" he trailed off, looking apologetic, but Tanwyn shrugged.  
"I am a whore, a common woman. You can say so, I don't mind. Why didn't you think I would accept being your mistress?"  
He smiled, "Because you like your independence too much and I considered it unfair to treat you like that…I would be kept away from you and any delight we would first have would become easily marred by the Ladies gossip and my father's dislike of you."

She rolled the apple between her hands, a bite missing from one side. Then she sighed and took another bite. Boromir wrapped his hand over her free one and she quickly looked up at him. He let her finish her mouthful and then kissed her sweetly on her closed lips. Before he moved back, he kept his eyes closed and whispered against her mouth,  
"I love you, Tanwyn."  
He felt her shaking first, the sobs escaping through clenched teeth and hurting lungs. He pulled further away, seeing her tightened fist on the bed, her eyes closed, though rivulets of tears ran down her cheeks. Uncaring whether she wept from guilt or pain or disgust, he pulled her into his arms, down into the warmth of the bed, until her sobs lessened and she reached up to wrap her arms around him once more.

"Boromir…I can't, I can't…If I do, I'll…"  
"You'll what?" he asked, but she made no response. He kissed her forehead, then her closed eyes. She blinked them open and he wiped away her tears, kissing the cleaned cheeks and then her mouth once more.  
"There." he said finally, smiling gently at her, "A beauty once more."  
Her cheeks flushed and she glanced away, then shyly look back up. He bit back a laugh on seeing her embarrassed from a compliment. He placed his hands tenderly around her cheeks and kissed her.  
"Very beautiful." he whispered and her smile came back, even though there was a little sadness still within her eyes. He waited.  
"I love you too, Boromir."

* * *

Strangely, this started life as a PWP (Porn without plot) and then gradually grew darker as I went along and developed something of a plot. But hey, that's writing for you! :D Hope you enjoy.


	2. For Gondor

_**For Gondor**_

He once jokingly said that the Rohirrim considered themselves married if they were found wrapped up in the man's cloak and Tanwyn certainly had been. She laughed at that and told him not to be silly, but after they made love and were wrapped up in bed once more, he gave her a beautifully crafted silver ring. Entwining ivy leaves, no jewel of any kind, just a simple band of silver. He admired it on her hand, but she insisted on wearing it about her neck or no man would come near her. Boromir's grasp had tightened on her then, but he said nothing.

That morning he was summoned away, there was no time for long farewells or breaking their fast in bed. But he promised he would return, swore he would come back to her and they would rename Osgilith with her name. She laughed at that and said Tanwyn did not suit a great city, but she kissed him passionately before he ran to the Citadel following the messenger; calling for his men to arm themselves. And when the battle was fought and won, and he stood upon the battlements speaking to his men and those of his brother, declaring their bravery and how the city was saved he couldn't think of her. Not now. And when his father summoned him to his side, told him of what he wished, told him of the weapon against the enemy had been found, it was as though that dark dream had returned and he could not remember her name, his mind focused on that gleam of metal within the murky gloom. It would be his. For Gondor.

She waited, like a sop. Like a foolish, lovelorn girl. She watched the men walk past, their faces alive with excitement, talking about the bravery of their Captains; some winked and whistled at her, but she would serve none until she'd seen him again. Even Thraingill grew angry and impatient, calling her back inside, but she waited. Till the sun sank beneath the edge of the sky and the world was cast in a darkening gold. Eventually Faramir rode by, his face clouded with worry, but on seeing her he kindly halted his horse and told her Boromir had gone to Rivendell. Gone to Rivendell. He had sent her no word, no messenger. Not even a kind, loving gesture with his brother. Faramir apologised as though he were at fault and then rode on.

She turned to the board house. She felt old, her bones ached and her head was dizzy and the ring lying on her chest was too heavy. Her heart felt too big for her chest, she was frightened it would crack her rib cage as it slammed against the bones. She walked in and even Thraingill on seeing Tanwyn's expression said not a word, neither comforting or angry. She allowed Tanwyn to go to her room, even when some of the customers called her name and asked her to drink with them to celebrate the victory; Tanwyn did not hear them. Thraingill shook her head, watching the young woman; she'd always warned her girls about love, but she never thought Tanwyn would...Tanwyn was too fierce. Men fell in love with her, Tanwyn had no time for such things.

She walked up the stairs, along the corridor and into her room. She pulled the bolt across the door, slipped out of her garments and then blew out the candle. She climbed into the bed, tried to find some lingering scent of his within the pillows. But she could barely distinguish it from the scent of other men. Meaningless, stupid men...There it was! Faint, musky. She breathed in deeply, an ache growing in her lungs till she could not hold it back. She was glad Cyrith and her partner were being so loud in the next room. She tried to cheer herself thinking of the morning, the sleepy warmth, the security of his arms, his kiss on her neck. But it only made her feel worse, till she was biting her lip so hard it bled and Sayren gently knocked on the door, asking if she was alright. What could she reply to that?

* * *

She left shortly afterwards, searching for employment elsewhere. She could not be a whore, a common woman. She could not touch other men, bed them. Fortunately, the woman who ran the Apothecary, Maida, was seeking an assistant and she did not seem to mind Tanwyn's past.  
"Mistakes are made." she said and that was the end of it. Tanwyn was a good student, she learned rapidly. She learnt how to mix medicines, make pastels, withdraw the oil from herbs and flowers, create a base for perfumes and soaps, learn the differences between what made one potion poison and another, with almost the exact same ingredients, a poultice. Eventually she was trusted to serve the customers, identifying their illnesses and needs. Then she was allowed to deliver the remedies to the customers, even sometimes the houses of healing would call for one obscure herb or a refreshment of a particular potion.

There was still judgement, still dislike. The healers would whisper amongst themselves, but she paid no heed. Eventually they grew to like her, but they still found her strange; she was silent, as though words could not be wasted. She was almost ghost-like, treading on silent foot, pale in the morning light.  
"Can this be the same woman?" They asked, "Was she not the girl who was considered lively and witty?"  
"Perhaps it is the shame."  
"Or perhaps we were thinking of the wrong woman."  
It was her smiles that sent shivers down their spines, wistful, soft and slow to appear, vanishing in almost an instance when they believed they had caught sight of one; like a rare, shy bird hidden in the hedgerow.

Men paid her some attention, she was pretty and knowledgeable. Tanwyn found it strange that anyone would consider her a good wife, let alone mother. She never really dwelt on any children she could have. Most of the men despaired of getting any words from her, she was polite and good tempered, but her eyes would slide past their smiles and her answers were short phrases, one or two sentences, she never asked questions. They badgered her with theirs though. 'Who are your mother and father?', 'Where do you hail from?', 'Have you always lived in Minas Tirith?' and sometimes she would imagine his strong arms encircling her waist and pulling her to him, not speaking a word, nuzzling his head into her neck. But she would always push that thought away, it did not help her.

* * *

Sometimes she dreamt of him though, her dreams were inescapable. Sometimes they made love or kissed or simply talked, Boromir's face cracking into laughter, she loved those dreams and would cling onto them even as her eyelids fluttered open, the cold mornings filtering through her windows, the bitter, sweet scent of the herbs drifting up. Sometimes the dreams terrified her and she would wake up screaming. He would have his back to her, staring at something avidly within his hand and she would try to gain his attention, whisper words into his ear, kiss along his neck, until her eyes saw his open palm; there was a simple band of gold and she could not understand why he would stare at it so, why his eyes did not seek hers. But she would stare at the ring, a humming sound and some strange, malicious whispering filling her ears.  
"He could be yours. Yours alone. He would return to you, love you. You could bind him, Tanwyn. Bind him to your side forever." and she was frightened and angry and hurt and scared and she wanted Boromir to hold her, but his eyes were mad and gleaming and he would fling her off. She would hit the ground and the screams would reverberate within the woods.

Once there was a confusion of both dreams, they were rolling on a bank, his lips heavy on hers, a happy laugh bubbling in her throat, his eager thrusts pushing his hips against hers. Then suddenly he seized her arms tightly with his hands, a grip powerful and painful. She tried to push him off, but his fingers dug in further and she pulled her legs up, struggling as his arms tried to keep her still; his weight no longer a pleasurable heaviness, but keeping her flat on the ground, as she begged him not to and his eyes took on that familiar gleam.  
"It should be mine. Give it to me." he shouted and her foot found the softness of his belly. She kicked and he gasped, loosening his grip. Tanwyn ran from him, she heard his oaths and the angry words he screamed from his lungs. But she did not look back, until she was hidden by a tree and she saw his face weaken, a look of pure fear and terror wash over his expression. Tears forming in his eyes, his hands shaking. He fell to his knees.  
"Tanwyn?" he whispered, "Tanwyn? What have I done...? Please, Tanwyn."

She woke from that dream, skin awash with sweat, the bed sheets coiled around her legs and Maida by her side, gently crooning to her as though she were a little girl once more. Maida fetched her a calming tea and she drank the hot, sweet liquid, finding sleep swiftly encouraging her eyes closed. She lay back on the bed; a deep and lasting sleep holding her till the dawn.

* * *

Boromir thought of her, bright eyes and chestnut hair, an easy smile. He thought of her for the first time in months, how much he loved her and he had not sent one word, one letter to her explaining everything. But by then of course it was too late and the first of three arrows hit his chest. By gods he missed her and he would fight for her. For Tanwyn, for Gondor. He would see her again. Then the second arrow hit him and the burning pain only furthered his desire to see her. He kept saying her name, whispering it as though it were some magic charm. But it was not and the third came swiftly and painfully, and he knew that was the end and Tanwyn was lost to him. Even as he lay dying he kept her name to himself, kept it secret on his lips. It would do no good to mention her. He closed his eyes and thought of her, till a deep and lasting sleep held him forever.

* * *

End of the story, separated it into two chunks, because it was already long enough! But feel free to read and review.

Hannah xxx


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